Kids
by My Name Is Not Grace
Summary: Cupcakes. Plastic baseball bats. Hello Kitty pinatas. Finn assuming the fetal position? Happy 2nd Birthday, Ellie Puckerman. / Another stand alone fic from the Pretty Girl series.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

**Author's Note: Yet another standalone from the **_**Pretty Girl **_**series. A couple of readers of the series have commented about the lack of other Glee club members, so I hope this more than makes up for their absence. All mistakes are mine. Enjoy.**

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**Kids**

It was another summery morning – skies clear, sun shining bright, birds chirping in the trees. Yet, it was not _merely_ another summery morning in the sleepy town of Lima, Ohio. It was a Saturday morning, the ninth of June to be precise. The reason why it was hardly another day? It was a day of celebration. It was a certain Miss Daniella Leigh Puckerman's birthday party – her _second_ birthday party – and it went without saying... it would be an eventful day indeed. Although the toddler did not have any idea as to why it was a special day, Ellie hardly slumbered throughout the course of night. At around six, the now two year old had opened her hazel eyes. She stared up at the painted ceiling for a few minutes with her arms outstretched above her tiny body. Her grandmother – with the help of her father and Uncle Mike – likened the ceiling to that of the morning sky outside. The lamb clock mounted on the wall across the room indicated that it was approximately eight when the door opened to reveal an exhausted Noah Puckerman. Though, as exhausted as he was, a smile adorned his handsome features. He always greeted Ellie in the morning with a smile.

"Hey, baby girl, what're you doing up so early?" With his strong hands, he gingerly lifted Ellie up from her crib where she had been standing up against the guard rail. She giggled jovially, happy to finally have some company aside from the inanimate stuffed bear beside her. A teddy bear could only keep a toddler entertained for so long. "Excited for your party?"

"Daddy," she smiled, kissing him on the cheek. Her eyes brightened when she received a kiss in return. "Beckfass? Hungee." Noah chuckled under his breath as he and his daughter descended the staircase. The smell of breakfast cooking wafted throughout the humble abode and the teenager felt his stomach rumble. Ellie gazed upon her father, concerned. She had heard the gurgling of his insides. "Daddy hungee?"

Ellie's question went unanswered. She received a barrage of hugs and kisses from her grandmother, who had effectively snatched her up from her father's embrace, which left him to tend to the food cooking on the stove. Sarah would have taken her mother's place at the stove (She was learning how to be a young lady now that she was ten.) but she had disappeared off to God knows where, saying she had to retrieve Ellie's present. He casually raised an eyebrow, curious, but kept his curiosity to himself, opting not to question his sister on why she couldn't have waited until the party. That was right. Party. He could very well not have his baby girl celebrate her birthday without a proper party, now could he? Although he was certain that Ellie would have no recollection of the party, it was only right to throw one. The guest list was fairly long, including his mother's co-workers and their young kids, Uncle Ezekiel, Aunt Aviva and her then-husband Max, his co-workers, a few people from Temple, and, of course, his Glee family.

When he and his mother were going over the minute details the night before, he found himself in a conversation he was hoping to avoid completely. Noah, his mother had said, don't you have a special girl you wanna invite? He groaned in response, earning himself a stern look. Mama Puckerman meant serious business. I don't understand, she began, whatever happened to that nice Jewish girl? The one who sang with him in glee club? Yes, his mother had gone there. She had to bring up Rachel Berry. _And_ she had the _audacity_ to accuse him – _her own flesh and blood_ – of having done something to scare her off. (Well, she was right about that one. But there were details about Puck's life that he wished to keep under wraps such as being a complete and total douchmonster to Rachel in the past. He has reformed since then. But still, there were some things mothers were better off not knowing about their sons.) You invited her to the party, pressed Dana, you invited her to Ellie's birthday, _right, Noah? _He abruptly stood from the dining room table and promptly bid his mother Good Night. Noah, he recalled her hollering, _Noah_, you invited her right?

"Noah! _Noah!_"

"Huh?"

"Geez, Noah, you're gonna burn breakfast," quipped Sarah as she filled the void beside her older sibling. "_I'll_ finish making the pancakes."

"Oh, in that case, we might as well be eating tar," he remarked with a sarcastic grin.

"M_o_m, Noah's being a butthead."

Noah rolled his eyes and tuned out both his mother's and sister's voices, concentrating on the task before him. Like hell he was going to burn the pancakes... He never burned pancakes before (Okay, there was that _one_ time.) and like hell he was going to serve his daughter burnt crap. Breakfast was an event in itself. Ellie was becoming fussy – a _very_ rare occurrence – and refused to eat any of her bits of pancakes unless there were chocolate chips. They weren't chocolate chip. Needless to say, Ellie reluctantly ate her breakfast, only nibbling every now and then.

The sun loomed overhead when guests began to arrive at the Puckerman residence. It was noon, give or take a few minutes, and everything was nearly ready. There was a plethora of summertime staples laid out on a wooden picnic table – burgers, hotdogs, barbecue chicken, potato salad, corn on the cob, watermelon – for everybody to choose from. Out by the swing set, two moon bounce stations were erected – one just for the little kids, while the other for the adults. (Because face it, adults liked to act like children every once and a while.) Most importantly, there was the giant piñata in the shape of Hello Kitty, filled with a vast assortment of candies. Quinn tried talking him out of purchasing a piñata in the likeness of Ellie's favorite cartoon character earlier that week. When one really thought about it, why get a nice piñata only to beat it senseless later? Instead, the blonde suggested something Ellie wouldn't get _too_ attached to – preferably something without a face like the sun or a cloud – so she wouldn't cry as the older children beat it beyond recognition. It made perfect sense, but Ellie wanted what she wanted. One glance of the anthropomorphic cat and, well, she (Hello Kitty, not Ellie.) was now hanging by rope.

"Again, Unca Mike, again!" squealed the youngest Puckerman. She clapped her hands merrily – uncoordinated and nearly missing for the most part. Mike rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. Ellie looked up at him with large expressive eyes, bottom lip jutting out slightly. "Do robot?"

"Better do it, Chang," laughed the girl's father as he approached. "She won't stop until you do." In the past few hours, the birthday girl had gotten Quinn to braid what little hair she had, Kurt to make her a circlet of flowers, and Artie to wheel her around. Now, she wanted Mike to dance. Noah snickered to himself thinking – Dance, puppet, _dance!_ And if the Asian knew what was good for him, he would. "C'mon, Chang, it's just the robot."

"But I _really_ gotta pee," whined Mike as he did his little bathroom jig – hopping from one foot to the other. His companion barked with laughter. "It's not funny! I had like five cups of lemonade!"

Noah left Mike to his own devices, taking Ellie with him in a small act of mercy. The two year old babbled animatedly about nonsensical things such as a cloud up in the sky shaped like a duck or the shiny decorations hung around the backyard. He imagined how things would be in a few years and shuddered. It would be like this magnified by a million. He paled to think how Ellie would be when she became a teenager and – Lord, help him – started to date. (Actually, Lord, help the poor schmuck his baby decided to bring home to meet Daddy...)

"Hey, dude, your mom's looking for you," informed Finn. "She already had me and Matt bring out the cupcakes, but we couldn't find the candle."

"Damn." The eighteen year old sighed heavily as he tried to recall where he had left the damn CVS bag. "Here, take Ellie."

"I, uh, sure..." he stated, awkwardly taking hold of the toddler. Make no mistake. Finn had held Ellie before, even babysat (With some help, of course.) on a few occasions. "Guess you're stuck with me for now, baby girl."

Ellie did not seem to mind being handed from one person to the other. In actuality, she enjoyed it. For that fact, Finn was glad. He was glad that he did not have to deal with a fussy Ellie. She was two years old and two year olds had developed a bad rep for being quite the miniature terrorists for the past few decades. (Luckily, Ellie was well-behaved in comparison to most children her age.) In addition, she was a Puckerman. And if Finn had learned anything from being best friends with one for the past twelve years, it was that they were temperamental – you never knew what you were going to get.

Finn set Ellie down on the plush green grass below, careful to ensure her party dress did not get ruined. Her legs wobbled beneath her for a brief moment. Finn helped steady her and had not released her hands until he was certain she would not fall. He did not desire to have an angry Aviva – or Kurt – lecturing him on proper fabric care. His mother already gave him lectures back home about not mixing colors and whites or darks and whites or whatever. (How was he supposed to remember all of the stuff?) Clothes were clothes, after all. Though, Finn knew better than to mention that to either of the fashion fanatics.

"Ooo!" Much to Finn's horror, Ellie had swiped a cupcake from the table. A handful of scenarios played in his head – scenarios of how the dress would be ruined and scenarios of how Aviva and Kurt would kill him. (Probably strangulation with some fancy kind of fabric...) Just as the giant frosting covered cupcake neared her mouth, he intercepted, taking the treat away. The girl was not pleased, even if her Uncle Finn appeared remorseful. "Unca Finn..." Ellie made to grab the sugary morsel but she was not tall enough. Finn was already tall amongst his peers. The toddler had no chance of retrieving the cupcake she had stolen from the decorative plate. Again she reached upwards with her dominant hand, keeping balance with the other by holding fast onto the fabric of Finn's jeans. The faint traces of a frown appeared on her face, corners of her mouth turned downwards upon realization that the cupcake was too out of reach. "Hungee."

"Not yet, Ellie," explained Finn. The bottom of Ellie's lip jutted out, quivering, and her eyes – oh her big, beautiful eyes – brimmed with salty tears. She was the poster girl of puppy dog pouts. "We have to sing first."

"Aww c'mon, dude. Let her have the cupcake. It's her party," reasoned Mike as he grabbed the cupcake from his teammate. Ellie brightened considerably. "Here ya go, little lady." As the young man made to hand Ellie the cupcake, Finn intercepted once more. "Finn, man, not cool. It's _one_ cupcake."

"_Hungee_." The quarterback expelled a loud breath of air. He hated to make the girl upset, but it was bad luck to eat the birthday cake – in this instance, cupcakes – before singing Happy Birthday because it took away its magical wish granting powers. At least, that was what his mother told him growing up. (Or perhaps that was her way of making sure he never snuck bite out of his birthday cakes.) "Unca Finn... _hungee_."

"Sorry, Ellie, but you're gonna have to wait," apologized Finn. He looked around for something Ellie could distract herself with. All he found was a bat leaning against the linen covered table. "Here, um, why don't you play with this for a second?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea, man?" asked Matt, soda in hand. He sipped the carbonated beverage. Mike joined in, echoing Matt's opinion. "It's a bat."

Thank you, Captain Obvious. Ellie was already getting the hang of things, tapping the bat's end on the ground with precision. He and his best friend shared matching looks. Something (What exactly... they did not know.) was going to happen. Now, the strength and intellect of two year olds typically went underestimated given their small size and age. When Finn handed Ellie the plastic baseball bat, he made nothing of it. He figured, what harm could Ellie do? The worst thing she could do with the yellow toy – in his mind – was tap his leg repeated. The girl hardly knew how to hold a bat, let alone swing with enough strength and coordination to inflict any pain, right?

"C'mon, guys, it's just a-"

_SMACK! _A muffled groan. A squeal of delight. Knee-slapping guffawing. That was the scene Noah happened upon. Finn – as freakishly tall as he was – looked so small there on the ground, curled up like a baby. Beside him sat Ellie, face smeared with white and pink icing, contently munching on a cupcake, plastic bat forgotten nearby. As for Matt and Mike, they were hunched over, laughing heartily at their friend's misfortune. They had warned him, hadn't they? While they were not fathers themselves, the two football players had younger siblings – unlike their friend in the fetal position – and knew better than to give a kid a bat, even if it was a plastic one.

"Do I even _want_ to know?" Matt and Mike continued to laugh, tears already forming in the latter's eyes. The young father sighed as he retrieved his icing covered daughter. Her hands were covered with sprinkles and cupcake crumbs. "C'mon, munchkin, we better get you cleaned up before Grandma sees you and kills me. Chang, Rutherford, take care of him."

Poor Finn.  
No one even thought to bring him an ice pack.  
An empty moon bounce stole them away.

"Guys...? A little... help? _Guys...?_"

For the rest of the party after "The Incident," Finn had become wary of any bat-wielding child, which proved to be quite hilarious – _especially_ when it was time to bust the piñata. (He had volunteered – coerced into was more like it – to yank the rope so he came pretty close to being clocked down you-know-where on a few occasions.) Needless to say, he learned his lesson quickly – _Never_ underestimate a two year old with a plastic bat. The sight of Finn spazzing out with every swing and flinching whenever a child approached was better entertainment than any clown could have provided.

The party winded down, everybody gone by the time four-thirty rolled about. The birthday celebrant had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion, which left the other Puckerman family members to clean up. (Truth be told, Ellie passed out after the massive sugar rush she experienced. Seven massive cupcakes would do that to anybody.) There was not much to tend to. The grill had been scraped after all the cooking was done. The balloons had been taken home by the kids in attendance. Serving dishes had been washed, dried, and put away, while the paper plates discarded. The only thing to do was take all the gifts – there was a large pile stacked –and stereo system indoors. Oddly, the stereo system proved easier to take in. It required two trips as opposed to the sixteen it took to transport the presents. They all varied in size, many were big while a few were small. Lucky for Ellie her dad didn't mind making the trip.

"Noah..." Oh no. He knew that tone of voice. His mother got that voice whenever she wanted to discuss his dating life. While her Noah was still a teenager, he was also a father – a father of a young girl. He'd eventually marry someone (He would, damn it!) and _hopefully_ that someone would be lovely Jewish girl. And as his mother, Dana had _every _right to meddle. (Or at least, she felt she was entitled to that right.) "I couldn't help but notice something... I couldn't help but notice that Jewish girl friend of yours-"

"She's not my girlfriend, Ma," stated Noah, exasperated. What would it take to get his mother off his back? To drop the whole You Need A Nice Jewish Girl topic? Never, perhaps, until he settled down with one... (Ha! Settle down... _That_ was rich.) "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Oh I know that, Noah. I was _merely _pointing out that she's Jewish and a girl that happens to be a friend of yours from glee club," she replied, toying with a ribbon on one of Ellie's numerous presents. Noah did not feel like disappointing his mother with the fact that he and Rachel Berry were not friends. (He did not know what they were, really.) "Because if she _was_ your girlfriend, you know to bring her home to meet the family..." _Namely me, __your mother_.The young man groaned once more. "Anyway, as I was saying, I couldn't help but notice that she wasn't here. I was _hoping_ to meet her. She sings so beautifully."

"I know, Ma. She's... great."

"I loved the song she did at graduation."

"You mean our alma mater?" A smirk appeared on the mohawked teen's face as he picked a slumbering Ellie up from the couch. "Is there a point to this conversation? Other than why she wasn't here for you and Aviva to attack so you could start planning our wedding?" The Puckerman matriarch feigned innocence. "I saw the measuring tape and linen swatches. Really, Ma? _Linen swatches?_"

"Did you even extend an invitation to the girl?"

"Yeah, I did. Rachel, _that's her name_, by the way, said she couldn't make it 'cause she already had some family thing in Chicago," he informed. His feet led him to the kitchen – Dana followed in tow – to fetch a wet nap to wipe the dried icing from his daughter's face. Ellie hardly stirred. "She dropped Ellie's present off this morning."

"And you didn't come and _get me?_"

"It was early. You were sleeping," Noah pointed out. "What was I supposed to do? _Wake you up?_"

"_Yes!_" Dana Puckerman surveyed the bounty carefully. "Which one is hers? Is it this one? I don't remember anyone coming in with this."

"No, it's the pink one with the gold ribbon on it. _That_ one's from Dr. Grossmann."

"Hmm, it's a big one," observed Dana, eyeing the professionally wrapped gift. (Only Rachel...) "That was nice of her, going out of her way..."

"Yeah," he said, uninterested, as he arranged the pile. "Nice."

"You should write her a Thank You card." The young man did not reply. In fact, Dana was certain he was not paying attention. Apparently, sorting piles was _far _more interesting than anything that she had to say. "Noah, you _will_ write her a Thank You card and you _will _hand-deliver it personally. I don't _care_ if her house is on the other side of town. Rachel didn't have to buy Ellie a present _or_ drop it off when she had a _long _trip ahead of her. She could have easily given it to you after she got back from her trip, but no. She got up _really_ early to make this _one_ stop..." The eighteen year old gave in. His mother was laying on the Jewish guilt real thick and he could only take so much guilt in one day. Dana Puckerman won this round. (She typically won in the game of Jewish Guilt. Actually, the mothers always won.) "And you'll drop it off, first thing when she gets back?"

It wasn't as if he had a choice anyway.  
Mama Puckerman's word was law.

"Daddy?"

"Did we wake you up, munchkin?" Ellie tiredly shook her head. "Then what is it?"

"Hungee."

Oh kids...

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**Author's Note: Please review. I do apologize for not updating as much but I also pray that you all can understand that I am going through some things and cannot write as much as I'd like. Though, reviews certainly serve as incentive. *Hint*Hint***


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